Page 26

Cate

The jingle of the shop’s bell startled me from my thoughts as I pushed open the weathered door to La Belle Dame. The street outside had been deserted, eerily silent as though all life had been siphoned away by the hour. Willow appeared from the back as if summoned by the break in the silence, too.

“A little quiet out there, isn’t it?” I murmured, my stomach clenching as reality began to set in. I was actually going to do this. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted the séance to work or not.

Willow, clad in a fuchsia crop top that clashed with the high-waisted denim shorts and orange leggings layered underneath, waved in welcome. She looked like she’d fallen into her closet and come out wearing whatever had tripped her. “Everyone’s at the party at La Porte,” she said, the sequins on her shirt catching the dim light and casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the walls.

“Guess so.” The unease in my gut deepened at the reminder of the chaos I’d left Lach to deal with at said party.

“Come on. Let’s do this.” She pumped a fist before beckoning me farther into the shop. Behind me, the door swung shut with a thud that vibrated through the room. The lights were out, but several candles had been lit in sconces that lined the walls. Shadows clung to the corners like cobwebs, barely disturbed by their feeble glow. Incense choked the air, charging it with a sense of anticipation that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“I’m all ready.” Willow gestured toward a table at the heart of the gloom, where a cluster of unlit candles waited like dormant specters. “Have a seat.”

I bumped into a few chairs on my way, stubbing my toes on one, but I was too distracted to even notice if it hurt. When I reached the table, I sank into the chair with relief. At least it would be over soon—one way or another.

“I was almost worried you wouldn’t come,” she admitted as we settled across from each other.

“Me too.” I’d nearly turned in the opposite direction twice during the short trip over.

She nodded, darkness glinting in her eyes, as if whatever knowledge she possessed of the place that lay on the other side of death allowed her to sympathize—the very place I was about to plunge headfirst into under her guidance.

My fingers twisted in a dance of anxiety as I stared at the candles’ unlit wicks, starkly black against the pale wax. Willow flourished a hand with a flamboyance that matched her outfit, passing her palm above them, and one by one, the tips caught fire, casting an orange glow that made the shadows around us lengthen and stretch ominously.

“Are you wearing the ring?” She peered at my clenched hands.

I swallowed and uncurled my fingers to reveal the band that seemed fused to my skin. “I still can’t take it off, remember?”

“Good,” she said, her playful voice assuming a tone of gravity. “It will serve as our beacon through the veil.”

That made about as much sense to me as geometry, but I nodded anyway.

“Is where Gran is…like the Otherworld?” My voice quavered as I spoke, betraying how weirded out I was.

She shook her head. “Not exactly. None of the living can truly know what or even where it is. The veil is simply a divide between us, the living and them—the departed.”

A chill skittered down my spine, and goose bumps popped along my arms. “Then why are the wraiths in the Otherworld?” I thought of what Shaw had told me. “Are they trapped there?”

“Trapped?” She gave a soft chuckle that held no hint of humor, unusually serious as if the night demanded it. “No, they choose to remain. Wraiths can move between worlds if they wish.”

“Even this one?” I whispered, feeling the weight of darkness around us. I’d never encountered a wraith in New Orleans. Not like I had in the fae courts.

“Even this one,” she confirmed, and my heart stuttered at the implication. “And I think that’s enough questions. You’re looking a little peaky. Let’s start before you chicken out.

“Belle Mère, guide us. Allow us passage,” she called and closed her eyes. Her cool fingers latched on to mine, and she began to chant, her words weaving through the air in an ancient rhythm that felt…ridiculous. Despite everything I’d seen, part of me rebelled against the nonsense of conjuring spirits, of reaching into realms beyond comprehension. But underneath my skepticism, a current of fear ran deep. I’d seen the truth.

Magic was real, and so were its consequences.

Willow continued the spell while I sat, waiting. Minutes passed, and when nothing happened, relief cascaded through me, smoothing out the goose bumps and settling my stomach.

I opened my mouth, eager to throw in the towel, and the candles sputtered, a breeze sweeping through the room where there should have been none. A tug from within my core pulled me forward, the world blurring at the edges as reality smeared into a shroud of gray mist. Panic clawed at my throat, and I choked back a scream. “Willow?”

There was no answer.

I peered into the dense fog surrounding me, stumbling back a step and nearly falling as a figure emerged from the haze. My breath hitched as the space filled with a presence I hadn’t felt since those final, horrible days in the hospital.

“Gran?” Disbelief mingled with a surge of something else—hope, perhaps.

She stepped from the mist, and for a moment all my fears were forgotten. Wisdom was still etched into her brown skin, the silver strands in her black hair sparkling like she wore a crown of knowledge. There wasn’t a trace of frailty in the body I’d last seen ravaged by cancer. Her eyes were no longer dulled by pain and the medications that never seemed to temper it—they were sharp and warm.

“Are you really here?” My voice cracked as I stepped forward, my heart pounding against my chest as if to prove this wasn’t a dream. Reaching for her, my fingers met only air.

She offered a tender but sorrowful smile, her form flickering like the candles had in the shop. “We’re in limbo,” she said, her voice steady but strained from whatever effort it had taken for her to come to me. “A place between the many worlds.”

I nodded, ignoring the many worlds tidbit. This one encounter was overwhelming enough.

“I’m happy to see you.” Warmth flowed through her words.

But doubt clouded mine. “Are you?”

How could she be after everything I had done?

“Of course.” Her soft chuckle was familiar, carrying the same amusement she’d always shown when I was younger and she seemed to know something I hadn’t told her yet. “You’ve chosen quite the companion for yourself, Cate. I knew you wouldn’t settle for some average guy.”

The admission sent a jolt through me. “How…?”

Maybe I didn’t want to know. I’d spent a lot of time worried that she was watching over me, disappointed in how I handled things with Channing. I hadn’t considered what else she might have glimpsed.

“I know everything.” Secrets and understanding twinkled in her eyes, and my stomach twisted into knots. Did she know about the ring, too?

Before I could ask, Gran’s expression shadowed. “I can’t say that I approve of the company Channing is keeping, though.”

Shame washed over me, and I hung my head. “I’m keeping a lot of the same company. It’s my fault.”

She shook her head. “No. Channing makes his own choices, just as you make yours. Most of the time, you keep your head, but he can’t seem to avoid trouble.”

“I should have gotten him out of New Orleans.”

“When?” she asked.

“I could have sent him away earlier.” Instead, I’d let him sit in jail, recklessly thinking I could outsmart Lach.

“Your deal with Lach—it was bound to happen. Mates find each other across time and space.” Gran’s voice was firm, leaving no space for argument.

“But now Channing is caught up in my destiny,” I whispered. The responsibility of that pressed down on me, heavier after what had happened tonight.

“That can’t be helped now, but it is why I fear for him. He does not possess your strength.” Her gaze pierced mine, a note of pride lacing her words.

A lump formed in my throat. “I’m sorry, Gran. I’ll protect him. I promise.”

“I know.” She sighed. Her assurance was both a balm and a burden, but I clung to it, determined to live up to her faith in me. “Sacrifice runs in your very blood, I’m afraid.”

Unease prickled the back of my neck. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t come to me by chance, Cate.” Gran lifted a hand to my shoulder. I couldn’t feel it on my skin, but I felt it somewhere more important. “Have you ever looked at your foster care file?”

Somehow, I had never considered doing this. Even now, the suggestion refused to take root. What good would it do? I shook my head, which felt as cloudy as the foggy world around me. “What’s in it?”

“There are things I’m still not allowed to tell you,” Gran said.

“But you’re dead,” I replied without thinking.

She laughed. “I’m aware, but I am bound by ancient rules. There is more to your story.”

“To my past?” I asked.

“Past, present, future. Truth does not care about time. It exists outside its rule.”

“Does it have something to do with the ring? Why did you give it to me?” The question burst out of me.

Gran’s face softened, and she reached out, her hand passing through mine like a breath of wind. “It was always yours, Cate.”

Her lips parted, and I braced for a revelation I still couldn’t fathom, when suddenly her gaze darted over my shoulder. Her eyes widened, and she vanished, leaving a void before me—and inside me.

“Gran!” I needed to know more. I needed to know what to do. I needed her. I whirled around. “Gran!” The cry died on my lips as another figure emerged from the swirling mist, but this one wasn’t a ghost.

I’d only met him once, but I remembered him. “Goemon.”

He tilted his head, his sleek black hair falling like a curtain across his face. He didn’t bother to say hello. There was only one reason he was here. Lach had been right to be concerned.

My muscles tensed, ready to spring, but there was nowhere to run in this void.

“You aren’t taking me with you,” I informed him, burying my fear beneath layers of bravado.

“I’m not here for you.” His voice echoed like he was calling from somewhere farther than limbo, and he gestured around us. “But I had hoped you might walk when the veil was thin.”

Relief mixed with annoyance. I’d come here for concrete information. Not riddles. “You interrupted something important.”

“This is important. I have a message for Lach.” He waited for me to nod. “His time is nearly up.”

“Is that a threat?” My voice cracked despite my best efforts.

“A warning. Nothing more.” I might not have believed him, except for the intensity shining in his eyes.

“Has the Wild Hunt found a way around the ward?”

He ignored my question. “The Cabal moves against him. It would be wise for Lach to seek alliances with other courts.”

“What cabal?”

But, with his message delivered, he started to fade. I lunged for him, ready to force more answers, but my fingers closed on empty air as he vanished entirely. I was alone with more questions now than before I’d come.

Shadows twisted and writhed around me, coalescing into shapes that were neither here nor there. I stiffened, my pulse racing as more phantoms began to emerge from the murky boundaries of this place. But before another spirit could manifest, a force gripped me—a sensation like being caught in a powerful undertow. A scream ripped from my throat as I was thrown off-balance and swallowed by the haze. Shadows tightened around me, and I fought, dragging me deeper until I couldn’t breathe even as more screams clawed out of me.

And then everything went still.

I blinked against the abrupt shift in reality, my lungs burning as I registered the snuffed candles before me. Then a table. Finally, the rest of La Belle Dame seemed to settle into place, along with Willow sitting across from me. Only now, her hands were pressed firmly over her ears, and I realized I was still screaming. I clamped my mouth shut, gripping the chair like a life preserver.

“Looks like you’ve just seen a ghost,” Willow teased. She spun a finger in a circle, and the overhead lights came on. “Did you get what you were looking for?”

I stared at her, the echoes of Gran’s information and Goemon’s warning bouncing in my still-dizzy brain. For a minute, words failed me, but I finally managed to shake my head slowly. “Information, yes…answers, no.” My voice sounded distant, hollow, as if part of me was still adrift in limbo.

“And the ring? What did your Gran tell you?” she pressed, chatting like I’d just gotten back from a nice, normal luncheon.

“She said the ring has always been mine,” I murmured, twisting the band with a frustration that had become all too familiar. “But if that’s true, why can’t I take it off?”

Her face fell as the ring refused to slip from my finger.

“Maybe it’s time to talk to an alchemist,” she suggested, leaning back in her chair and offering me a sympathetic smile. “Someone who can see how the spell works.”

“Maybe…” I trailed off, the idea stirring a flicker of hope within me. “I might know someone who can help.”

“Good.” Willow eyed me curiously, her brows knitting together. “Did you encounter anyone else while you were…wherever you were?”

I hesitated. Parts of it were already slipping away like a dream, but Goemon’s warning remained bleak and stark in my mind. “No one of consequence.”

Willow nodded, although her eyes told me she sensed there was more I wasn’t sharing. But she didn’t push me. Maybe she also knew that truth, like enemies, always lurked in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to emerge.